Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  “A pleasure to see you again.” Wales continued as if nothing had happened and he leered at her figure. He extended his hand and Sophia handed him a copy of the contract, avoiding his hand, being nearly uncivil.

  Alistair observed the weird exchange with keen eyes. Something’s wrong here.

  Sophia impatiently drilled her nails on the glass tabletop.

  Long dark-red nails! How did I not notice them before? How would they feel against my back? He almost hissed with the imaginable pleasure. Are her toenails painted the same shade? Alistair found himself wondering how she would behave in bed. Rather, in his bed.

  He speculated about her, watching her graceful and sophisticated movements as Wales proceeded with the dull explanations about interest and guaranties. Who is this woman? Not the lawyer, but the beauty that goes home every day to her husb— Husband! She’s married, Alistair Connor. You don’t do married women.

  His gaze wandered to Wales, who drooled over her unabashedly. He pictured her as Wales was surely doing. Naked.

  This is disconcerting. Perhaps she’s Davidoff’s secret weapon? I should have guessed by the way she ambled in my direction that she has passion in her veins, but she seems so self-control—

  “MacCraig?” Edward asked, taking Alistair’s head out of the clouds.

  Double fuck! I have to rein in these wayward thoughts. “Pardon?”

  Edward smiled at him with a knowing look in his blue eyes.

  Aye. Secret weapon.

  “Page thirty-three, the penalty clauses,” Edward informed, his smile widening. He was aware of Sophia’s effect on the huge man in front of him.

  Alistair browsed the contract and quickly apprehended the notes in the margin. What the fuck? Alistair stiffened on the chair and looked at Wales, Edward, and then at Sophia.

  A sardonic look imprinted on her face. She delicately raised a raven eyebrow and tapped her pen on the center of her mouth.

  Christ! Her mouth. Alistair looked down at the penalty clauses to distract himself from her mouth. These clauses are absurd!

  “I can see you have made some pertinent notes on these clauses, Mrs. Santo. I’m sure I can arrange to settle them somewhat differently.” He gave her a charming smile.

  She wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue and again drilled her red long nails on the glass covering the wooden table.

  If this continues, I’ll be unable to stand when the meeting ends.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, changing her stance.

  Oh, come on…you can do better than this, Alistair Connor. He wanted the Leibowitz Oil account and now he wanted this woman to bend to his will. Let’s see how much longer she resists me. Alistair swung the chair in her direction, casually crossed his legs and, slightly bending his torso, stared deeply into her eyes, not concealing his desire.

  “What do you desire, Mrs. Santo?” he asked in his deep, husky voice, letting the double meaning hang in the air.

  Sophia’s mouth went dry and she tilted her head to the side. God. What just hit me? Her lips parted and she forgot what she needed to say.

  Edward came to Sophia’s rescue again. “Exactly what is written, MacCraig.”

  Oh, hell, Mr. MacCraig, you are so not doing this. Sophia snapped out of her reverie. Don’t push your luck, Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. This is business. “Let me be honest, Mr. MacCraig.”

  “Please,” Alistair said. How old could she be? Twenty-two? Please! I have five times her experience.

  She put her jeweled dragon Cartier pen on the contract with finality and entwined her long fingers in an elegant gesture, shifting in her chair to lean away from him. “These penalties are incompatible with a firm of our size and solidity. The fees and guaranty clauses are inconsistent with our corporate policy. You’re dealing with Leibowitz Oil, for God’s sake.”

  “And?” Alistair asked.

  “You can do better than this, Mr. MacCraig.” She gave him a knowing smile. “We’d like you to modify the highlighted terms as best you can. We could set another meeting to—”

  “Miss Santo,” Wales interrupted her. “I have told you before. These are our final conditions.”

  “They are legally—”

  “Every time you postpone the signing of this contract, you waste a business opportunity for Leibowitz, Miss Santo,” Wales, undiplomatic, put forth and continued pushing her. “You have more to lose than us.”

  Sophia’s temper snapped. “Mr. Wales, I think you haven’t properly researched Leibowitz Oil. This loan,” she tapped the contract with her pen, “is just a means to expand our business. We’re doing extremely well without it, no thanks to you.”

  “If I may say, Miss Santo, since the death of Gabriel Leibowitz and the disappearance of his wife and daughter, Leibowitz Oil has lost a great deal of its credibility.” Wales sneered at her. “It’s sinking without him. We’re your salvation.”

  What the fuck? Alistair squinted when Sophia blanched.

  “I don’t see what the lives of Mr. Leibowitz’s widow and child have to do with the company, sir,” Sophia murmured dryly.

  “Well, although Davidoff has been doing great in steering the company, everyone knows Mr. Leibowitz was the brains behind it. It was said that his widow was very astute, but rumor has it she is dead.”

  When Wales finished, Sophia held the arms of her chair to avoid reacting but Edward noticed and leaped to steady her.

  Shut up, you idiot. Alistair’s eyes sent daggers in Wales’s direction. “Davidoff, I’ll ask the legal department to review these clauses and Wales will—”

  “MacCraig, seems to me that Wales doesn’t know whom he’s talking to.” Edward’s voice had the sharp edge of barely controlled rage.

  Aye, it seems Wales has really fucked up this time.

  “I think we have concluded our business with your bank, Mr. MacCraig.” Sophia rose and leaned on Edward, who wrapped an arm around her, snaking it around her waist, offering protection, comfort, and support. Immediately, the other two men rose.

  Close, aren’t you? Alistair noticed every nuance of the embrace. This woman is the key to the account. I was so sure I would sign this contract today.

  It was Wales’s turn to pale. “Mrs. Santo…please, sit. I’m sure we can find—”

  Ah. Not Miss anymore? “We no longer have anything to discuss with you, Mr. Wales,” she stated, her voice as cold as the Arctic.

  “Mrs. San—” he tried to insist.

  “I’ll handle this, Wales,” Alistair intervened, raising a hand to forestall more damage. “Mrs. Santo, if there is anything I can personally do…”

  “We, at Leibowitz, don’t base our conclusions or business decisions on rumors,” her tone dripped acid. “And, Mr. MacCraig,” she looked deeply into his eyes, any hint of the previous desire gone, “if you really want to do business with us, you will have to accept the terms. Our terms, from now on.”

  She calmly put her pen in her bag and packed her draft and Edward’s in her briefcase, closing it firmly. She held her hand out to Alistair and he enveloped it with his much bigger one.

  Cold. He looked at her pale face and his anger shimmered. Fuck. Wales has overstepped now.

  “I bid you good day, Mr. MacCraig,” she said softly, staring into his beautiful eyes. Searching. For what exactly, she didn’t know.

  Sophia left the room with a cool demeanor that wouldn’t deter Alistair for a second.

  Chapter 8

  Mayfair, Hibiscus

  9:00 p.m.

  “You never talk about your husband. Why?” Ethan asked after ordering their wine. He hated the man, but he wanted to know everything about her, even if it pained him to hear about Sophia and another man. Knowledge is power.

  “It’s painful,” she said. “You can’t imagine what it’s like to lose the person you love until it happens.”

  “I see.” Love? No. But pain, I understand. “When did he die?”

  “Two-thousand-eight.” Don’t give away too much. He’s
too smart.

  “And your brothers and sisters? Parents?”

  Sophia smiled. “I have one brother, who you’ve met, and three sisters, Carolina, Valentina, the youngest, the one you met, and Victoria, Valentina’s twin.”

  Ethan smiled and shifted slightly on the sofa they were sharing, repositioning his body to look at her better.

  Sophia blossomed under his attention. He looked at her with so much interest that she could easily spill out her entire life to him. Careful, Sophia. You still don’t know if you are safe from what happened; from what you did. If word gets out… She shook her head at herself. Stop being paranoid. You’re in London, and no one knows you here.

  10:17 p.m.

  “You’re not hungry?” He looked at her, concerned, as the waiter took away her nearly full plate. She had pushed around the food, taking tiny bites. “You barely ate. You’re thinner than when I met you.”

  The waiter returned to serve them their dessert.

  Sophia smiled at Ethan. “Don’t mind me. The food was delicious, a surprising combination of flavors. I loved it.” She picked up her dessert spoon and dipped it in the Bakewell tart with clotted cream ice cream and cherry gel. She flicked her hand. “I was dying to taste this.” She closed her mouth around the spoon and moaned.

  Ethan leaned in her direction, brushed her hair from her face, and spoke huskily in her ear. “And I, I’m dying to taste you again, baby.”

  Desire shot through her body. “You can ask for the check.” Her breath hitched. “I don’t want coffee.”

  He immediately signaled for the waiter and his hand went up her thigh, sliding under her Valentino dress. “What are you wearing today?” he whispered, biting her earlobe.

  “It’s a surprise,” she informed him hoarsely. “Behave. We’re in a restaurant.”

  “Jesus!” His blue eyes went electric when his hand touched the skin between her stockings and garters. “You take my breath away, Sophia.”

  He barely looked at the bill the waiter brought, flinging cash on the black leather case. He desired that woman. Jesus! I can’t get enough of her.

  Ethan had a huge erection by the time he parked in his garage. If he had been in his Rolls, he would have had her right in the car. The Porsche is too small for the two of us.

  As soon as his private lift doors closed he backed her up against the wall and kissed her hard, his hand grabbing her hair to pin her in place and pressing his hips to hers.

  He dragged her behind him when they arrived on his floor without a word, going directly to his room. He was eager to touch her skin. He shed his overcoat and blazer and threw them on the sofa in the sitting room; he did the same with her fur coat. He burrowed his head in her neck and licked her throat.

  She moved her head to the side, giving him full access, as she undid the buttons of his shirt, the tip of her fingers caressing his chest. Her nails scratched his nipples lightly and he grunted softly. Her dress fell on the floor and he backed away to look at her.

  His eyes widened and a hungry grin graced his face. Jesus! Beige-and-brown sheer lingerie and belt garters with sheer lace top stockings.

  He dropped to his knees and buried his nose on the apex of her thighs, inhaling. “You smell so good, baby.” He tore off her panties. His tongue traced her seam and he put his hands on her inner thighs encouraging her to spread her legs and he dived between them.

  A moan escaped her lips when he lapped at her.

  He gripped her waist with a hand to steady her as he put one of her legs on his shoulder. He took his time enjoying her and only let go when her hands yanked hard at his hair.

  “Up!” she ordered, tugging on his hair again. Her eyes were light and clear with lust.

  He smiled with utter satisfaction and stood up to kiss her, shedding his shirt as she unzipped his trousers then kneeled before him in her bra, garter, stockings, and high-heels. The exotic beige lace of the Philip Tracey shoes he had given her tantalized his imagination as they caressed her ankles and calves.

  Hot! Ethan gaped at the sight. He hardened even more.

  She moistened her lips in anticipation.

  He groaned. Whatever control he had left slipped away with that vision.

  She looked at him through long lashes and with a wicked grin, opened her mouth, and slowly, just barely licked him with the tip of her tongue.

  Please!

  And again she just licked him.

  He thrust forward and she backed away.

  “Sophia, don’t tease!” he growled, and pulled her hair almost painfully.

  “Just paying in kind,” she taunted, and swirled her tongue around him. “Burn for me.” She breathed and took him fully in her mouth.

  He grunted and moved his fingers into her hair, grabbing it.

  She took hold of the base of his erection and worked him all over, tonguing, stroking, and sucking.

  He gripped her arms, pulled her from the floor, and almost flung her on to the bed.

  She took off her lacy bra, eager.

  He quickly kicked his trousers and briefs from his ankles and lying beside her, his mouth immediately searched for a breast.

  She arched on the bed and spread her thighs and he covered her, entering her slowly, staring at her while he did, his forearms caging her shoulders and arms, his hands buried in her hair.

  She locked her legs around him. Her long fingers encased his ribcage, “More. Faster.”

  “As you wish, baby,” he breathed in her ear, hugging her body tightly to his and slamming his hips against hers until she completely lost control. Her body jerked under his and he felt her low, strangled cry against his neck. He slowed down as she clamped around him and then speeded again to come, becoming still inside her, and collapsing on his side, keeping her bound to his body.

  He settled on his back and nestled her better onto his torso, her head on his shoulder, using it as a pillow. “Sophia, you drain me,” he murmured into her hair, and dragged the sheets over them.

  “Mmm,” she purred on his shoulder.

  “Sophia?”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you sought medical help for your nightmares?” His face showed his concern.

  “Yes, yes, I have. One day they’ll go away.” Her fingers caressed his bearded jaw. “Does it bother you very much? I can go home.”

  His arms tightened around her, “No. I’d rather have you right here.” He kissed her hair, “Sleep well, baby. I’ll be here if you need me.”

  She lifted her head and smiled lazily at him. “I’ve never slept in high-heels before, Ethan.” She took off her shoes. Crawling back to him, she laid her head on his shoulder, her fingers toying with the hairs on his chest.

  “Aren’t you tired?” Ethan asked, and Sophia shook her head.

  Silence ensued for some minutes as they tenderly caressed each other.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “They aren’t worth your penny.” She smiled wanly at him. “I just had a bad meeting today and I’m concerned about whether I conducted the matter as I should have.”

  “What happened?” As always, he expressed interest in her.

  “The long and the short of it is, I had this bad feeling about a director negotiating a contract with us and I demanded a meeting with the CEO of the bank. Then the guy pushed me too far and I snapped.”

  “Which one? How?” Ethan’s demeanor blackened.

  Sophia, absorbed in her thoughts, didn’t notice the change in Ethan’s attitude. “The director. He pressed us to accept the contract as it was, full of absurd clauses. He even insinuated that Leibowitz Oil depended on this contract to survive. Ridiculous.” She bit her lip. “And he kept leering and drooling over me. It was disgusting.”

  Ethan flipped her suddenly on the bed and pressed his body over hers, his hand shot out and grappled her right wrist with strength, wringing it. “You will not go to these meetings again, Sophia.”

  “Ethan! You’re hurting me.”

  He squeezed
her hand violently and pressed her body down on the mattress harder, grabbing her hair in his other hand and yanking her head back. “I don’t want you to go alone to these meetings,” he insisted, his azure eyes darkened.

  “Let go of my wrist. You’re going to break it,” she whispered urgently, a weird fear spreading through her as pain took control. “Please.”

  He let go of her arm and her hair, but didn’t budge from her body. His fingers were imprinted on her wrist. She lightly rubbed her fingers over it and winced. It’s going to leave a mark.

  He inhaled heavily. “I’m sorry, darling.” He bent his head to kiss her lips, but she turned away, avoiding his kiss. “I don’t like the idea of you exposed.” He buried his head on her neck, kissing it. “Alone, unprotected.”

  “I wasn’t alone. Edward was with me,” she answered.

  “Edward?” His voice had a tinge of rage again.

  “Edward Davidoff, the CEO of Leibowitz.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Close, aren’t you?”

  “No-yes,” she stammered. “I mean, we’re friends, co-workers.”

  “You shouldn’t work this hard and burden your pretty head with these mundane things.” He curled his fingers under her chin. “You don’t need to. I can provide for both of us.”

  Dear God. The man is crazy. Provide for both of us? Is he proposing marriage? “I like what I do, Ethan. As everything in life, it has its ups and downs,” she reasoned. She rose and went to the bathroom. She studied her wrist and then her face in the mirror. She noticed a movement in her peripheral vision. He stood at the door. She raised her chin. “I’m going home.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I really am. I like you very much.” He stepped into the bathroom, warily. “I don’t like you meeting with men. You’re an astonishing woman.” He frowned. “I see how men look at you. You’re coveted, but you’re mine, Sophia. Mine.”

  “I see,” she murmured, although she didn’t. She fished her mobile from her purse and texted her driver. This is not affection, Ethan. This has another name and I’m not liking it. Not at all. “But, I’m going home, Ethan.”

  “I can take—”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I’ve already called a taxi.”